The Meaning of Awesome
by Emperor Sunny
Summary: All Harry's life, he wanted to be a standout. No, not the "Chosen One" kind, but something a little more Han Solo-esque. Can Ginny unintentionally help him realize his dream? Post Deathly Hallows, Christmas present for forevermagic. Have a Merry one!


Well, heeellooo there, all my favorite people in the world! How goes it? I assume you are enjoying your Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/whatever the hell you celebrate during December? I know, I could have said "holidays," but that sounds so much less... festive. And festivity and life is what I aim for, so sue me.

Anyway, speaking of CHristmas, I decided to be an awesome writer and write a surprise "present-story" for my editor. (Note, I loathe the term "beta," it implies second-ratedness.) So, please join me in saying "Thanks!" to the bestest friend an writer can have, my EDITOR, ForverMagic! She has mentioned to me at least once that she LOVES Harry/Ginny stuff, so I took a piece of free-form writing I had started a looooong long time ago(in a galaxy not so far away ;)) and made something of it just for my Aussie friend. So Happy/Merry Christmas, Magic. You have earned at least this much reward... It may not have anything to do with Christmas, but Ginny's fire is so delightful, at least to Harry. And there's plenty of cuddling. That happens a lot during Christmas, right?

Its amazing that I wrote this at all, considering that my brand of humor involves action, political, pop cultural, or pessimistic/narcissistic undertones. But instead, this is just a pure, fluffy, romantic comedy where Harry discovers that being like Sean Connery or Indiana Jones isn't quite what its cracked up to be.__

_**ENJOI**_

* * *

"What do you think your parents would have been like, love?" Ginevra Molly Weasley asked innocently as she lay sprawled on the lawn of the Burrow, her head resting lopsidedly on Harry's lap.

The question threw him off guard. Remaining silent, he mulled the query over in his mind again and again, thinking about how to best answer it. Quite frankly he didn't want to think about it; ever since the Mirror of Erised and the memories he saw in Snape's pensieve, he really didn't think that wondering would help or be in any way productive.

"I don't want to talk about it," he verbalized his thoughts finally, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Sulkily, Ginny sat up and looked him in the eyes, her vibrant red hair flowing down her shoulders regally and blowing in the wind lightly. The combination of fiery red with her intense, warm, brown eyes stole Harry's breath all over again. "Oh, and why the bloody hell not?"

"Well, what is the use? They are gone, and you know what happened the last time I meddled with seeing into what my mum and dad was like."

"That was Snape's memory, Harry," Ginny snapped back. "It was what he saw. Maybe if you had seen Sirius-"

"Sirius's point of view would not have made a difference, and besides, he's dead too, now."

Ginny, knowing she had no response, looked down at her lap and sighed. Harry watched her as she mulled what he said over in her brain, and couldn't help but find the look of contemplation on it endearingly cute.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, her expression softening to sorrow.

"Sorry for what?"

"For bringing back thoughts and memories that you probably don't want to have…"

"I love you," he quickly replied. What else could he say? Nothing else could come to his mind. She had turned his life upside-down since that day she snogged him after that fateful quidditch match. And now here she was apologizing to him for possibly over stepping a boundary; something Ginevra Weasley never does. The fact that she cared enough for him to not be her usual stubborn-prat-self filled him with a tingling sense of happiness. And why should she apologize when the very sound of her voice made his heart flip? Draco Malfoy could have his perfect prefect pure-blooded aristocrat. The silky melody of Ginny's voice, the satiny feel of her hair, her stubborn streak, her un-ending ability to show kindness, and the natural warmth she exuded was all the comfort he needed. All he would _ever _need.

"I-I love you too…" Ginny stuttered as she blushed in the signature Weasley Flush. _I _so_ have to teach them poker_, Harry thought jocularly. _With the way Weasley's are with their emotions, I could make a killing._

"Do my feelings really have such an effect on you? Wow, I'm going to have to catch you off guard more often, 'cause you look so beautiful when you're blushing."

_Wow. Who knew I, _Harry Potter_, could be such a lady killing womanizer? This must be how Sean Connery feels…_

And believe it when it's said, Harry had always wished he could be more like James Bond; he was destined to save the world, and be damn cool while doing it. But alas, fate had been cruel, and gave him the charisma of a soda can; sure he was famous and popular, but if you wanted him to say something cool, all he could muster was a squeak as he was crushed under the social pressure. For once in his life he wanted to be the one people didn't have anything bad to say about him. Lord knows he spent all his bloody life underneath Wizarding society's microscope.

"Well, I- well I mean… it is the first time we told each other that we loved one another. And… well, it was _perfect_."

_Oh_, Harry thought numbly. _It really _was _the first time that I told her I loved her…_

"Oh- yeah… uh… er. Ahem. Yeah. Wait, are you sure?"

_Now I know how it feels like to be Q, the not-so-sexy tech guy who always just helps and never gets a chance to talk to the Bond girls, all over again._

Ginny laughed her velvety laugh and shook her head, making her long hair shift like waves, the red strands shimmering in the summer sunlight.

God_, I love her hair…_

"Of course I am, you prat! I'm a girl, and girls always keep count of how many times their men tell them they love them. It's in the rules."

"Oh- oh. Okay," Harry stammered again, at a loss for words. _Story of my life…_

"You look so cute when you blush, love."

"Er," was all Harry could muster. If he found the damn cat that stole his tongue, so help him…

Ginny laughed again and dragged herself back on his lap. "I really do love you, too."

And then, at that moment, Harry found the damn feline that thieved away his linguistic abilities, and kicked the mischievous thing out of his mental door. "I know."

_Han Solo line, for the win!_

Ginny giggled and kissed his nose affectionately. "Good."

And then, at that next moment, Harry came to a bigger realization. It didn't matter how "cool" or "awesome" he acted. He didn't have to impress all the ladies, or make all the guys laugh. He didn't need everyone to love him, or even like him. He was Harry-_Freaking_-Potter for Merlin's sake. And the one woman who actually mattered, the one person he really cared about, cared about him, too.

Forget being David Beckham. Forget trying to be witty like Sherlock Holmes. Forget being the charismatic hero. He was Harry James Potter, Ginny Weasley's Man. And with that bit of wisdom, he kissed the love of his life. It was slow, soft, and subtle. But it was sweet and tasted like win, which was more than okay in his eyes.

* * *

And there you have it, a short'n'sweet oneshot featuring the future Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Merry Christmas, editor. Merry Christmas, Pap. And Dan. And Bear. And Steve. And Fatso. Happy Kwanzaa, Oshiomogho. Happy Hanukkah, Annie. And Merry Christmas to all and-oh whatever...

And I just got an idea. This was done as a Christmas present for MY (kinda-sorta) special someone here on fanfiction... maybe I can do the same for YOU(!) for YOUR(!) special someone(they don't necessarily have to BE on fanfiction...) You know, like an artists commission, only FREE. You tell me what kinda story you think they might like to read (It could be Christmasy, or not, its up to you,) and I will author it for you. And, because its Christmas and I'm an open-minded individual, I'll take my "no yaoi, yuri, or any homosexuality" off the board of rules as well. Anything goes. Just tell me, in a REVIEW (after you tell me how much you LOOOVED my story) what genre(s) you want, what characters you want, a general setting and plot, all the basic trimmings you want on your turkey for your friend, family member, or "special" person.


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